Chapter 5 Proud Soldiers Don't Complain.
Sarah's first night in the attic was the scariest of her life.
The room itself was frightful enough, with its bare wood floor, its hard bed and the wind howling overhead, but the toenail scratchings and shrill little squeaks coming from the walls were even scarier.
She knew these were the rats.
The most terrifying thing of all however, was the idea that her papa could really be dead, that she would never see him again and that she was all alone in the world.
No matter how many times she repeated it to herself, she still could not believe it.
Miss Mention, however, would be very helpful in convincing her.
The next morning, Sarah walked past the open door to what used to be her room.
She caught a glimpse inside and saw that everything had been removed or changed as if by some evil magician.
Any trace of the girl she used to be and the life she used to lead when her papa was alive had been erased.
Just like Miss Minchin must have taken all her finery to be sold to pay for her party, thought Sarah
She didn't like thinking unkind thoughts about magic, or about grown-ups for that matter.
Magic and pretend had always been her favorite things, her biggest source of strength, but now it seemed that no amount of magic or make-believe could help her.
Your new life begins today, Miss Minchin informed her when she went downstairs.
You will work for me in exchange for my kindness of not turning you out onto the street.
You will begin by overseeing the younger girls, teaching them French and other subjects that Sarah thought would not be so bad.
She loved spending time with the younger girls and teaching them things, and their warm affection for her also gave Sarah joy.
Little did she know, however, that it was only the beginning of her toil.
Miss Mention would also send Sarah on errands at any time of day or night and in the worst weather.
She would have Sarah deliver grown-up messages to people in town and pay her bills.
An errand boy would never have been so clever or reliable.
Although Sarah was a slight little girl, the cook often sent her out to buy groceries.
Sarah carried them back through the streets with a heavy basket on her arm.
Miss Minchin ordered Sarah to do all of the hard, unpleasant tasks the other servants would not do.
As for the other servants the cook and the housemaids although they too were servants, it was easy to boss around the youngest and newest among them.
Sarah used to put on what they considered fancy airs, and Miss Minchin seemed to dislike her as well, so they thought that such treatment was fitting.
Sarah tried to remain strong and not to complain.
She hoped that they all would see that she was a hard worker and would soften and be kinder toward her over time.
But she was wrong.
The harder she tried to please them and do as she was told, the meaner and more demanding everyone became.
She grew sadder and lonelier as each day passed.
The worst thing was going outside and seeing other people.
When she had been Princess Sarah, just the sight of her bright and eager face had caused people to smile, especially when she was back in India.
But...
No one looked at her anymore.
In fact, if they saw her by chance, they seemed to want to look away as quickly as possible.
She must really have been a sight.
Sometimes, when it was dark, she would stop in front of windows that were all lit up and peer into the warm rooms filled with happy families.
One family that seemed particularly happy lived in the same square as the school, two houses away.
Sarah called them the large family, not because the members of it were particularly large, but because there were so many of them eight children in all.
All eight of them, and their parents too, seemed happy and fond of each other and of the world.
They were always telling jokes, giving each other little gifts, and going on outings together.
The house right next door to the school had stood empty for a while, but soon those windows would be lit up as well.
One day, when returning from her errands, she saw, to her great delight, a van parked in front of the house next door.
She had an idea that if she could see some of the furniture, she could guess something about the new neighbors.
The furniture that was being delivered to this house looked familiar to Sarah.
It was teak wood and other pieces covered with rich oriental embroidery.
Why, she had seen things just like these in India.
She wondered if the single man, her new next-door neighbor, was from India as well.
When she looked inside, she saw not a large happy family, but One lonely man.
He was the little family, Sarah thought to herself, for no number was littler than one.
When Mr Large stopped by to say hello to the new neighbor, she wondered if the large family and the lonely family of one were friends.
She hoped so for her new neighbor's sake, but most of all she wondered why.
When she caught a glimpse of him through a lighted window, Mr Little seemed to appear, as she felt sickly and sad.
Perhaps he was missing someone, too, as her father had so missed his little missus before he died.
One of the things that Sarah loved, her schoolwork, became harder and harder.
Servants don't need schooling, Miss Minchin said.
What she meant is that servants don't have the right to be given lessons.
Even so, Sarah was expected, after long and busy days spent doing everybody's bidding, to go into the deserted and darkened schoolroom to study alone at night.
Often she would fall asleep over her books and be awakened the next morning with a slap and a scolding.
If she didn't keep up, she may not have been kept on as teacher of the older classes.
That was the future Sarah had to look forward to at Miss Mention's school.
The biggest change, however, came in the way the other girls treated her.
Whereas once they had been drawn to her in admiration, now they were awkward and uncertain, especially as her one black dress grew shorter and shabbier, her shoes developed holes and her pale face grew paler and thinner.
After a time, she was told to eat in the kitchen with the other servants.
Although saddened by their treatment of her, Sarah was far too proud to try to win the girls back.
Her heart grew even stiffer and sorer than her body.
She never told anyone about how she felt inside, thinking soldiers don't complain.
Some days, however, it seemed that her heart would break with loneliness.
Even her old friend Ermengarde seemed to have let her down.
Weeks went by after the change before she saw Ermengarde at all.
One day however, while her arms were full of garments to be mended, she bumped into her former best friend in the hall.
Ermengarde just stood and stared, her pouty mouth wide open.
She stared because she never imagined that Sarah could look so odd and poor, like a servant girl.
She felt like crying, but was so upset and nervous that instead she broke into a short fit of laughter and stupidly asked Sarah, is that you?
Yes, Sarah said shortly, her face flushing.
Oh, Ermengarde started, overcome with shyness.
How are you?
Sarah had never lost patience with poor, dull Ermengarde before, but all at once it seemed that Ermengarde was no better than the other girls who had left her all alone.
Sarah lost her self-control.
How do you think I am? she snapped.
You really are stupid, aren't you?
Her heart broke at her own meanness and at the horrible look of shame and sadness that crossed over Ermengarde's face.
With that, Sarah turned and walked away.
After that meeting, Sarah tried to stay away from the other girls altogether.
Miss Minchin made that easy enough.
Sometimes Sarah would see Ermengarde sitting alone in a window seat, huddled up in a corner crying, and she felt like rushing over and saying she was sorry, but she was too proud, and so she held herself back.
At least, she thought, she still had Becky.
Becky was one of the few comforts in her hard new life.
They had no time or right, of course, to speak to each other during the day, but before dawn Becky sometimes slipped into Sarah's room to say hello and to help her in any way that she could.
And at night, Becky would come to visit again, always knocking first, humbly at Sarah's door.
Will you still let me be your handmaid, miss?
Becky kept asking.
But Sarah always firmly told her no.
We are the same, she said again.
We are just two little servant girls living in the attic.
Just then, an interesting thing happened.
Sarah's imagination, which had for weeks been shocked into some kind of deep sleep, seemed briefly to flicker awake.
Becky noticed it, too.
What is it, miss?
Becky whispered.
I was wrong, Sarah said, her eyes shining.
We are more than mere servants.
We are two poor old prisoners.
It is the French Revolution and we have been captured and thrown into the Bastille prison in Paris.
Sarah exclaimed.
Miss Minchin is our jailer, and you are the prisoner in the next cell.
I am, miss, Becky agreed, secretly thrilled.
She was happy not so much at the thought of being a prisoner, but at the thought that Sarah and her stories had returned to life.
